i 9 o 3 ] THE LAST LAP 91 



streamer floated away from the summit of Terror ; one could 

 have sworn that both mountains were active.' 



' February 2. — Awaking to another fine day, we saw at last 

 the prospect of an end to our troubles, and since that we have 

 got off a long march and cannot now be more than ten or 

 twelve miles from home. It was not till the afternoon that we 

 surmounted a slight rise and altered our course in passing 

 around the corner of the White Island ; as we did so the 

 old familiar outline of our friendly peninsula burst on our 

 view ; there stood Castle Rock like some great boulder 

 dropped from the skies, and there to the left the sharp cone 'of 

 Observation Hill. Almost one could imagine the figures on it 

 looking eagerly out in our direction. Away to the west were 

 all the well-known landmarks which led back to the vast 

 western range, and to-night, therefore, on every side we have 

 suggestions of home. 



1 That it is none too soon is evident. We are as near 

 spent as three persons can well be. If Shackleton has shown 

 a temporary improvement, we know by experience how little 

 confidence we can place in it, and how near he has been and 

 still is to a total collapse. As for Wilson and myself, we have 

 scarcely liked to own how " done " we are, and how greatly 

 the last week or two has tried us. We have known that our 

 scurvy has been advancing again with rapid strides, but as we 

 could do nothing more to prevent it, we have not looked 

 beyond the signs that have made themselves obvious. Wilson 

 has suffered from lameness for many a day ; the cause was 

 plain, and we knew it must increase. Each morning he has 

 vainly attempted to disguise a limp, and his set face has 

 shown me that there is much to be gone through before the 

 first stiffness wears off. As for myself, for some time I have 

 hurried through the task of changing my foot-gear in an 

 attempt to forget that my ankles are considerably swollen. 

 One and all we want rest and peace, and, all being well, 

 to-morrow, thank Heaven, we shall get them.' 



At this point my sledge diary comes to an end, for on the 

 following day I had neither time nor inclination to write, but 



